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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853613">The Many Actions Of Timothy Drake.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandria_Antoinette/pseuds/Alexandria_Antoinette'>Alexandria_Antoinette</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mindless. [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caffeine Addiction, Compilation work, Dark, One Shot Collection, Other, References to Depression, References to Shakespeare, Tim Drake Angst, Tim Drake Has Abandonment Issues, Tim Drake Has Anxiety Disorder, Tim Drake Has Feelings, Tim Drake Has Mental Health Issues, Tim Drake Has a Bad Day, Tim Drake Needs a Break, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake has bad coping mechanisms, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake is So Done, Tim Drake is an agent of chaos, Tim Drake is such a fucking loser, Tim Drake-centric, honestly I'm just using this as a way of coping</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:06:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,838</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandria_Antoinette/pseuds/Alexandria_Antoinette</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim Drake.<br/>Young prodigy of Batman, heir to both Drake and Wayne Enterprises.<br/>Skilled in hand-to-hand combat and with an IQ of nearly two hundred and fifty.<br/>And an absolute agent of chaos when pushed to his furthest limits.<br/>Tim drake is known for how well he keeps himself together under stressful situations; but what exactly do you think he's like when he manages to allow a crack or two to slip by?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bart Allen &amp; Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain &amp; Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown &amp; Tim Drake, Tim Drake &amp; Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Damian Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson, Tim Drake &amp; Everyone, Tim Drake &amp; Jason Todd, Tim Drake &amp; Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake &amp; Ra's al Ghul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mindless. [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1466107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>206</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Existence Is Just Reassurance That You're Not Entirely Useless. (Crack One: Exhaustion.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From Bruce's knowledge and capability to absorb information faster than most super computers, his second youngest son has been sitting at the dining room table, as still as a statue for roughly seventeen hours and twenty-three minutes.</p>
<p>He only knows it's been this long when he spoke to the boy and garnered no response, which prompted him to check his camera recording of the previous seventy-two hours. His son had come back into the manor, from his own home with his team, to simply plop himself down into the hard-wood chairs to his kitchen table.</p>
<p>Again, for the past seventeen hours and twenty-three minutes. </p>
<p>Bruce find's he must stress this time laps due to the fact that, within this time his son has not gotten water, moved, or even seemed to have sighed. If Bruce were willing to waste that much time, he would be confident enough to say that going through the recording, he wasn't even sure he would see the boy blink. </p>
<p>All of that leads him to where he is now, with a mug of hot black coffee in his hand and a plan for a slow approach, so as to not startle his second youngest. Once again, he calls out light and slow; "Tim?" Unlike the last time he had tried to communicate with his child, this call garnered a response. A head, that was previously hanging down under a curtain of black greasy hair, shot up so abruptly he almost jumped. Instead, he held firm and continued his slow steps, mindful of the stiff posture of his well-trained and deadly sixteen-year-old boy.</p>
<p>"Hey Tim, I've got some coffee here for you if you're interested." Slowly, so very slowly it made his muscles ache, he places the mug before the wide, glossy eyes of a teenager. The boy doesn't look at the coffee, but instead at the hands that delivered it.</p>
<p>"Tim, do you know where you are?" Bruce asks, slowly lowering himself into a chair two placements away from the threat; he needs enough room to react, if anything goes downhill.</p>
<p>"Currently?" Tim responds, for the first time in hours; he keeps his eyes on Bruce, raising up from his hands and deep into his eyes while his cold, pale fingers grasp the mug before him. "Yes, I know where I am currently." He murmurs into his mug, drinking to coffee even though it's just been made and is most likely scorching hot right now. Bruce watches as the steam from the coffee's surface lowers, becomes weaker as the level of heat is consumed so quickly it makes' Bruce's throat hurt just watching. </p>
<p>"Oh? Can you tell me where we are right now?" </p>
<p>Tim hums and ignore how Bruce tenses when his other siblings peak into the room, unaware of what danger lurks before them. "Yes, yes I can tell you. We're in the level." </p>
<p>Tim ignores it when his elder brothers and younger brother creep into the room; Jason seem's worried and slightly scarred, tense. Dick just seem's slightly amused -he know's what Tim's like right before a crash, he's used to the slight horror scene before him- and Damian seem's just down-right disgusted.</p>
<p>(He won't admit it to anyone, even on his dying breath, but he was so terrified of his brother he could hardly speak.)</p>
<p>"Level? What level are you talking about Tim?" Jason asks as he clears a path around the large table, to the far right of Bruce. Tim jerks his head up quickly and snaps it in Jason's direction, freezing the man in his spot as he smiles, wide and unabashed- empty.</p>
<p>"The level. Of. The level of existence. Duh." Tim's answer, while stuttered out and slow, had so much confidence in it it shook most men in the room to their bones. Dick just shakes his head and makes his normal route to the cupboards, pulling cereal down and calling over his shoulder, without turning; "Timmers? You wan't some Recee's Puffs?" He spun around, two boxes in his hand-</p>
<p>And the small stature of his younger brother is the only thing he could properly register, this early into the afternoon. </p>
<p>Dick handed him the box without hesitation, walking around the boy to grab a bowl and milk; whenever Tim's about to crash, he never really bothers with things like utensils or liquids. Think's it's a waste of time. Dick watches his father and brothers faces as Tim opens the box and pours the cereal directly into his mouth, open so wide he never spills a drop of food. Chewing nosily, he hunches his shoulders back down into a faux position of relaxation, his hair once again covering his head as he eats.</p>
<p>"Isn't any level a level of existence?" Damian questions and- uh-oh. "You shouldn't have asked, baby bird." Dick says as Tim freezes, mid-noisy chew as the whole kitchen falls silent. </p>
<p>"The level of cosmic insignificance. The stars and god's don't care who we are or what we do. We owe the universe nothing. We exist on our own terms, but not of our own wills. None wish to be born and yet every single one of us were. None wish to have bones, or teeth or flesh or eye's but we do. And so we are at the level of existence." </p>
<p>The room falls silent and Tim continues his chewing.</p>
<p>"Uh," Jason finally forces out. "Yeah, sure thing Timmy."</p>
<p>Dick stands up to his full height, having been leaning down to eat from his bowl on the counter, and states "Tim's just come off from a week long investigation into what Ra's had planted on the roof of some family run company; he's about to flag out so when he drops we'll just carry him to the med area down stairs and hook him up onto some I.V's. Don't put too much thought on what he says or does, he's not exactly right in the head as far as I can see."</p>
<p>Tim had decided the best place to stand was on top of the counter, feet bare but most of his suit on, the cape hanging loosely from his shoulders. He has stopped eating, and Dick lean upwards to gently remove the boy from the boys hands. Tim rubs his red, dry eyes and sighs, loudly proclaiming; "I'm so tired of this life-style. I just want to roam around. Have knives taped to me. Be set loose on society. I want to be the cause of many minor injuries across the globe." He brings his head from his hands and states, looking into the nothing of the room- "I want to be a roomba." </p>
<p>And them promptly allows his body to drop from it's continued exhausted suspension, muscles going lax and giving out beneath him. Dick manages to catch him just in time, and the smell of stress sweat and coffee was a comfort -<em>He's still alive, Jesus thank god he's still alive</em>- before he hefted his younger brother into his arms more comfortably, and made his way down stairs into the cave.</p>
<p>He had Bruce and Jason help strip his days-gone-unwashed costume from him and placed him in the hospital bed, connecting I.V drips into his arms. </p>
<p>"He'll be good as new in a day or so; he does this a lot. I get calls from his team whenever he get's this far. " Dick waves his hand around like it's no big deal, but-</p>
<p>They all know this wasn't good fro him. A teenager shouldn't push themselves for says on end, to the point of being incapable of communicating properly. But all they can do is help him, and wait. </p>
<p>It's all they know how to do for him, now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Break, Heal, Then Repeat Steps One And Two. (Crack Two: Injustice.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first case Tim had ever done solo.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce was not as excited for Tim's first solo night patrol as the fifteen-year-old himself was. Bruce looked across the cave to the changing rooms, half-listening to the boy's rambling of his school day and who had done what and when during his lunch period. Bruce shook his head as Tim continued his rambling, changing from what he had done during school to what he wanted to accomplish during his patrol.</p><p>"I wanna see what all the commotion down on South-Wind is about; I think I can manage to figure it out if I'm careful enough." Bruce spins around in his chair as Tim emerges from the changing room, Robin costume and it's obnoxious colors brightening the room almost violently. </p><p>"I have a few rules to set, before you leave." </p><p>Tim pauses in his smooth motion of pulling his helmet on, his bike waiting to be ridden patiently. Bruce brought up one finger. "Rule one; you are not allowed to break up any violent gang fights with obvious signs of guns."</p><p>Tim nods his agreement to that one, and let's Bruce continue when he was sure Tim had acknowledged the rule. Bruce brought up a second finger.</p><p>"Two; no, and I mean absolutely NO interactions with our higher class villains; no Joker, Harley, Two-Face, anyone. If you see any of them out, you evacuate anyone around them and call me and Nightwing in. Got it?"</p><p>Tim nods, "Got it."</p><p>Bruce lifts his third finger. "Final one. If it's a matter of your life against someone else's, and you know the only way you could solve it is putting yourself in mortal danger, <em>Don't. </em>You stall as long as you can and turn on your emergency beacon; whoever's closest will assist you. Okay?" Tim seem's mildly displeased by that final rule, but relents. "Yeah, it's all good. I got it."</p><p>And so, Bruce allows his youngest out into the night alone, for the very first time.</p><p>Tim let the rumble of his bike soothe his nerves as he begins his very first solo patrol; excitement and worry were heavy in his limbs. He knew his route, knew what areas he is to cover and what area's he was supposed to avoid. He drove his bike out until he was under the cover of a large press building, leaning his bike against the wall and igniting her camouflage, watching her and his helmet blend in to the wall behind it.</p><p>The night started normally, like any of his patrols did -minus the large, looming black figure behind him, watching over his shoulder- and yet something felt off. At first, Tim chalked it off as just simple nerves of being on his first patrol alone; and he continued to think that for a good few hours, managing to stop two muggings and talked a young woman down from suicide. He felt like he had done something good, at first; felt accomplished, felt worth his space.</p><p>Then he reached hour six, his limbs on fire from sprinting and jumping rooftops, heart tight in fear as he heads forwards, towards the scream he had felt echo off the building walls. He leaps over the last rooftop, falling to the ground heavily; the shock of his landing sailed up to his knees, burning and sharp and painful. But he ignores the feeling, keeps low as the man before him looks down into his eyes.</p><p>In said man's arms, there was a child; gasping and face stained with tear tracks, the little girl in the mans arms looks at Tim like he's a savior, like he's her angel of justice. Tim looks at the man, then beneath him, at his feet. He;s standing in a pool of blood.</p><p>Blood that trails behind him, and leads to the prone body of a woman.</p><p>"She lied to me, you know." The man whispers as he holds the child tighter, an arm around her neck as she gags and chokes. Tim keeps crouched, but speaks to the man slowly, calmly; "What do you mean?" </p><p>Tim needs to keep the man calm, keep him as placated as possible, keep the hand that holds a gun in a tight grip from shaking. Keep a trigger from being pulled, another life lost.</p><p>"She said she loved me; she said she loved me. She lied, she lied; she lied to me." The man's muttering wasn't inhibited by anything like a drug, or booze. He just seemed- unhinged. Unstable, in Tim's eyes; untrustworthy. He need's to get the little girl out of his grip, before something happens.</p><p>"Can you let go of the girl for me?" Tim asks as he finally gets up from his crouch, eyes locked on the wavering gun in the mans hand. "Do you promise not to call the cops?" The man pleads, arm lowering minutely and hands no longer shaking; Tim nods. "I promise."</p><p>The man, dress shirt drenched in stress sweat, drop's the girl to the ground, free hand still holding tight to her arm as she gasps in heavy breaths, wide eyes on Tim. "Meet me in the middle? I'll-I'll let her go, just-meet me in the middle." Tim nods without question, taking a step forward. But-</p><p>The man take's a step back. Thinking it was out of fear or paranoia -he doesn't exactly seem very sound of mind- Tim takes another step, smaller. Again, the man takes a step back, wide and gaping in it's stride. The little girls seems confused, and keeps her eyes trained on Tim; her blonde curls were matter to her forehead and Tim tries to offer up a smile to her, tries to comfort her in a way the man wouldn't notice. And he takes one more step forward.</p><p>The man takes his final step back, his feet tapping against the woman's broke n heel and he- he screams.</p><p>He scream's loud and horrible, releasing her arm only to reach up, grabbing the girls blonde curls in his fist and wrenching her head back.</p><p>Tim jumps forward and slams his elbow into the man's neck, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and throwing him into the wall. He hears his head slam into the concrete, slumping over unconscious. </p><p>Tim's breath fell heavy, gasping as he turns from the man's prone body to the little girl lying in what he believes to be her mothers pool of blood. </p><p>"Hey, hey hey you're okay. I'm-I'm so sorry you had to see everything you did tonight." Tim leans down into a crouch and lifts the girl up, turning her around to look her in the eyes.</p><p>Her face was stricken, eyes open wide and mouth frozen in a sob; Tim's hand came around to the base of her skull and feels missing fragments, feels blood cake itself into his gloves, watches dark black crimson drench bright blonde curls, smells urine and bile and blood and-</p><p>he never noticed it was him who was screaming until it tapered off into nothing but a hoarse whisper, his throat dry and crackling by the time he was done. He tries to feel for a pulse, instinct flowing through his limbs as he searches feebly. He screams again, this time directing it at the still figure of the man as he cries, feels tears welling up behind his domino's lenses. His limbs are cold and stiff, and he doesn't know who he is or what's happening but everything is spinning and it takes all he has to stand up, his knees groaning as he moves.</p><p>The trip back to his bike was mechanical, memorized as he dons the helmet and straddles the bike. He got back to the cave so quickly, so fast; everything's happening so fast and he doesn't know what to do. So he let's the cold empty feeling wash over his limbs as he steps into the cave's main computer room, blood still covering his uniform.</p><p>"Robin? What happened? Are you okay?" Bruce's voice echoed through his head and Tim watched, detached as Bruce jumps up from the computer and steps forward, removing the domino and making Tim look deep into his eyes. Bruce's eyebrows were low and furrowed, angry.</p><p>"Take a step forward, says the un-just man." Tim mutters as he feels his eyes burn and throat constrict, lip wobbling when Bruce removes his gloves my himself. "Meet me in the middle, says the demon in human skin." Tim sobs when Bruce pulls him into a hug, confused and terror stricken as he hugs his father as tightly as his traumatized limbs would let him. </p><p>No matter how deeply Bruce tried to pry into Tim's mind, he never did find out what happened that night; never could understand why Tim refuses to ever meet in the middle, why Tim never agree's to 'meet half way.' He never understood why Tim prefers to travel on foot, and why Tim never hesitates to remove a hostage before the situation is ever understood. </p><p>Bruce just remembers his son's terror stricken face, covered in blood and pale, like he had seen a ghost.</p><p>He still see's it, sometimes; when time's are rough and emotions are high. When they lose someone they could have saved, when a life is lost to the hands of the un-just man.</p>
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